Perception

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-two

Where there are no swamps there are no frogs.


German Proverb

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  "And then?" Sonya prompts tired of waiting for Amy to continue the story.

"And then what?" Amy asks, taking a long chug of the soda can in her hand, "I was unconscious how am I suppose to know what really happened. Or was the whole ‘slipping into the darks sweet embrace’ too poetical for you?"

     Sonya groans, reaching down into her tanned attaché case to withdraw a small box unadorned box. With speed born of repetition, she flips open the small container picks out three pills and shoves them down her throat before anyone has time to blink. "Paracetamol." She shrugs carelessly returning the box to the recesses of the case answering the confused expression on her subordinate’s faces. "Come on Thompson, You can't tell me you haven't gotten a headache yet from listening to the girls maundering story for... How long has it been now?" Sonya flick back the sleeve of her jacket revealing the thick silver face of a men’s watch.

    "At the police station you said they were prescription." Amy comments, tipping her headway back to capture those last few elusive drops of orange liquid.

     "I never took any pills when we were at the station. I was too busy trying to get you safely out the side door before that SUV swung back for another go at you."

    "Not then," Amy clarifies giving the can a final shake before launching it across the room towards the bin in the corner, "Back on the nineteenth when Pete and I went in to sign our statements. You were the woman who came in while I was filling up the water bottles."

  Sonya's pale green eyes turn flat and hard, "You must be mistaken."

  "You go right on believing that lady if it helps you sleep at night." Amy laughs rising stiffly from the chair before heading towards the passageway.

  "Where are you going?" Sonya demands twisting about watching her go.

   "To the little girls room similar to the one you deny meeting me in."

   "Amy that's enough." Petra chastises absentmindedly from where she paces near the window. Abandoning this well-worn trail she wonders over to the door. Trying futilely to look down the motel corridor through the spy hole.

   "Petra's the one you need to talk to Detective. She was front row centre while I otherwise occupied. I didn't wake up till we reached the hospital." Amy turns for the bathroom.

   "Where you promptly zombied out as soon as the Doctor flashed the needle." Petra taunts.

   Grabbing the peach coloured wall Amy popping her head back around. "Stitches hurt."

   "How would you know it was for the sedative?" Petra calls watching her sister duck back down the hall before slipping into her seat to continue, "Despite all her big talk and tough attitude my sister is a whimp when it comes to pain."

   "I can still hear you." Amy's singsong tone carries down the hall.

    "But she gets into fights." Sonya's says, cutting across Amy's words.

    "Amy's basic fighting strategy is not to get hit. If someone was to land a lucky blow she might be ok, she'll whine like a baby when she thinks no one can hear her but she generally doesn’t pass out. It's the fight reflex you see. All that adrenaline pumping round her system keeps her upright. It's the pain she knows is coming and there is no escape that causes her to shut down and become a zombie. When she shuts down it takes a few hours if not days for her to return to normal. I assume that's why she started talking to the cops in the first place. In Zombie mode she will walk and talk but little else. Her mind quite literally disengages from her body. Fight or flight. In Amy’s case her mind flies away leaving an empty shell behind."